


My Love For You Is Like Wildfire

by martinslawyer



Series: Golden [3]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, domestic life, martín is even softer, mirko is a soft baby, no editing we die like men, soft boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martinslawyer/pseuds/martinslawyer
Summary: “He found the lights on and a faint sound of music coming out of the cottage as he approached.Smiling to himself, he knocked on the door, and the sight that welcomed him, knocked the air out of his lungs.Martín.His Martín.Wearing one of his sweaters.”Mirko.exe has stopped workingpart 3 of the series following Martín and Mirko’s lives after the bank heist.a self indulgent, soft as hell piece✨
Relationships: Helsinki | Mirko Dragic/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Golden [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829293
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	My Love For You Is Like Wildfire

**Author's Note:**

> edited! sorry for the glitch idk what happened :(

The last few months living in that quiet town in south Italy did Mirko’s soul good. The tranquil air of the country, along with its peaceful people, eased the pain in his chest that sometimes made it too hard for him to get out of bed.

Getting used to living with another who carried the same pain with him had been bumpy, but they made it work. They were both mindful of each other and their wounds, and slowly, over time, learned to make peace with them.

At least, Mirko did.

Martín still blamed himself too much for his own good.

Despite having enough money to last them several lifetimes over, Mirko decided to work in town doing manual labour. He loved working, and he loved people. It was the perfect balance.

Today, in particular, he was working late. He was helping the men paint the renovated old church after he finished his usual work.

He didn’t pay attention to the passing of the time, and so when they finally called it a day, it was already getting dark.

He cursed his absentmindedness and hurried home, as it was about a fifteen minutes walk away from the center of the town.

He found the lights on and a faint sound of music coming out of the cottage as he approached.

Smiling to himself, he knocked on the door, and the sight that welcomed him, knocked the air out of his lungs.

Martín.

His Martín.

Wearing one of _his_ sweaters.

The thing was dark blue and hanging off his shoulders, exposing his collarbones. His hands disappearing inside the long sleeves, except for the one that was holding a half piece of toast.

Martín swallowed the mouthful of toast and smirked at Mirko, cocking his head to the side, “what took you so long, big man?”

Mirko wanted to reply, he really did. But try as he might he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.

The sight before him was so endearing, it made his heart feel like it was going to stop working.

Or maybe he died and this is heaven? Perhaps.

Mirko highly doubted something so beautiful would exist in reality.

He attempted to get his breathing in check, but that only resulted in a choked up sound escaping his throat.

“Mirko?” Martín questioned, stepping forward and putting his free hand, _the one covered in the sleeve entirely_ , on Mirko’s arm with furrowed eyebrows, giving him a concerned look, “are you alright?”

Theoretically, he should be able to answer that question with coherent words.

Realistically, he could only take a deep breath to calm himself before embarrassing himself with another inhuman sound.

“why are you wearing that?” he finally managed to say, pointing at the enormous sweater.

Martín looked down at himself and let out a soft ‘oh’ before looking up with a faint blush on his cheeks, and mumbled something incoherent.

“what?” asked Mirko and Martín sighed and started picking at the hem of the sweater.

“I said, you were gone for a little too long and I missed you and this smelled like you so I wore it.”

A surge of affection blossomed in Mirko’s chest and warmed his entire body at Martín’s mumbled words. The thought of Martín missing him, missing _his smell,_ made his heart nearly burst with happiness.

He didn’t think it was possible to love Martín any more, but he did. Every single day he loved him even more than the day before. And this type of innocent gesture only made him sure that he would never stop loving the man in front of him, come what may.

The small distance between them was crossed in a heartbeat, and Mirko engulfed Martín’s smaller body with his arms, lifting him up and spinning him around a few times.

Martín let out a small indignant squeak, before wrapping his legs around Mirko’s middle and burying his face in the crook of the neck, as it was his habit to hide his face there when he was shown love.

Mirko didn’t put him down after spinning to a stop. His arms went under Martín’s legs, like a seat, and he just kept him close to him like that, standing under the front porch fluorescent lights.

Even then, he looked at Martín, in his little eyepatch that he wore whenever his eye was bothering him, light scars scattered over his face, and he thought he was the most beautiful human being he had ever seen.

“I love you, Martín Berrote.”

The faint blush on Martín’s cheeks deepened in color, “I know.” He whispered in reply and tightened his arms around Mirko’s neck.

Mirko knew Martín wasn’t ready for the big words yet, but it was alright. He had him in his arms, felt his affection, and saw the love in his eyes. He didn’t need to hear it, he already knew it was there. But he would wait for Martín to say it in his own time nonetheless.

“you have paint on your face.” Remarked Martín absently after a few moments of comfortable silence.

“I helped paint the church.” Chuckled Mirko.

Martín hummed in response and chewed on his lower lip.

He looked at Mirko hesitantly for a second, then slowly leaned closer, pressing his lips lightly to Mirko’s.

Mirko sucked in a surprised breath, before melting into the kiss, bringing one hand up to cradle Martín’s head.

They broke apart a few moments later, flushed pink.

Mirko took a moment to wonder if Martín had anyone else before Berlin. If someone else had ruined love for him. If someone else didn’t show him what a truly marvelous man he was.

Or if it was just Berlin who burned him so badly, he closed his heart to everyone else.

Mirko felt truly lucky to be on the receiving end of his affections. He would treat it like the gift it is and respond with tenfold.

He noticed Martín liked being held, though he would never admit it. He liked curling on himself in Mirko’s embrace, making himself smaller than he already is, as if to shield himself from something.

It broke Mirko’s heart to see him so but it made him adamant to show him as much love as he can give.

And Mirko had so much love for Martín, he feared it would burst out of him.

With a sigh, Martín rested his forehead against Mirko’s.

“welcome home, Mirko.” He whispered softly.

_Home._

When Martín said it, it seemed to hold so much more meaning.

“It’s good to be home, _Gatito._ ” He whispered back, “you hungry?”

”starving! I had to toast, Mirko. Toast!” he wiggled the half eaten piece of toast still miraculously in his hand in front of Mirko’s face for emphasis.

”Alright, Alright!” chuckled Mirko, “want me to put you down so i can go make dinner?”

”Maybe not put me down so soon.” backtracked Martín hastily, “I’m not _that_ hungry.” he sniffed and looked anywhere but at Mirko, his reddening cheeks betraying him, “besides, I’ve been working all day. the least you could do is carry me for a few more minutes.”

”oh, I can do that, and more.” 

Without giving him warning, Mirko stalked forward until Martín’s back hit the wall gently, and he pushed him up a bit until Martín looked down at him, eyes wide with surprise.

The surprise quickly melted into excitement and want and he leaned down to kiss Mirko hungrily.

The poor half eaten piece of toast fell to the ground with a quiet _thud_ and lay forgotten as the two of them had other plans before food.

**Author's Note:**

> this is a link to a small sketch i did of Martín in Mirko’s sweater :) enjoy! 
> 
> https://twitter.com/lokislawyer/status/1283837064157569033?s=21


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